The Music Within
by Id9916
Summary: Rehearsal time was usually a torture in itself. Long, endless hours of repeating the same few bars because some idiotic horn just couldn't get it right. But Roy loved the powerful pieces composed for orchestra, and would never give up on his job to pursuit a career as a soloist, albeit it would provide him with more money and freedom. Both from conductors and rehearsals.
1. Getting started

Rehearsal time was usually a torture in itself. Long, endless hours of repeating the same few bars because some idiotic horn just _couldn't_ get it right. But Roy loved the powerful pieces composed for orchestra, and would never give up on his job to pursuit a career as a soloist, albeit it would provide him with more money and freedom. Both from conductors and rehearsals.

Today, though, they were going to start late _again_ because some complete _moron_ had decided to switch everyone's scores with somebody else's. And so, the stage was in a complete ruckus, what with musicians that ran to each other asking: " _do you have my scores?_ ". Roy, himself, had been lucky enough to have Fuery handing him his, claiming to have found them in his own folder. So, Roy could lean back in his seat in the first row, taking in the sight. He had time to reflect on the fact that whoever was responsible for this must have acted right after yesterday's rehearsal, as all musicians usually brought their own scores home with them. The culprit must be swift, then, and easy to overlook, too. But who…?

Before a clear thought could form in Roy's mind, they were all set and about to start. Roy tuned his violin rapidly and got up to give the note to the others. When he did so, he realised that two seats were empty.

"Where are the Elrics?" he asked, not entirely surprised and more than a bit annoyed. In the three years of his acquaintances with them, not once they had been on time; whether that be for severe lack of organizing skills or just to piss everyone off, Roy couldn't say. If it were for Ed, he would have bet on the latter without a second thought, but considering his younger brother's seeming awareness of other human beings…

A sharp clang, followed by several other metallic noises and a string of colourful curses, interrupted Roy's flow of thoughts.

"Dammit, Al! Of all the places, did you have to drop it on my foot?"

"I'm sorry, Brother, I didn't mean to!"

Roy turned his head toward the entrance of the room to look at the source of the racket. Two blond boys entered the room at once, one holding a set of cymbals with his right hand and a folder with his left, the other with a cello case on his back that was almost as long as his torso, and hugely wider. The cellist was also limping a little.

"Thanks for showing up at last, boys", said Bradley, the conductor, who had just made his way to stand next to Roy, "We were starting to worry about your whereabouts" he added with a cheesy smile.

The brothers didn't comment further and made their way silently to their seats, although Alphonse acknowledged the conductor and the first violin with a slight bow and a sheepish smile. They settled their instruments swiftly and nodded to Roy to signal that they were ready. Roy raised his bow once more, taking in the sight of the whole orchestra hanging on his every word – well, on his every note, that is.

When everybody was finally tuned, Roy sat back and turned his scores to the right page, the national hymn that was to be played compulsory at the start of every concert. They were a military country, after all. Roy distantly wondered why on Earth would they need to practice the damn piece again, since it was likely the only piece they did know well out of all the concert program. Wouldn't it be better if they just skipped to more important stuff? But of course, the conductor's word is law in an orchestra, as the kids say, and Roy's role in it, albeit important, was not unreplaceable, nor it gave him any faculty of objection. Naturally, if his complaints only concerned the best order of rehearsal, now, it wouldn't be that bad.

At Bradley's sharp request for silence, for which the man only needed to raise his wand, Roy shook his head free from those thoughts and concentrated solely on the music.

During the break, at last conquered after some difficult moments in which they couldn't seem to get the rondo right, Roy let his gaze wander at his left, towards the percussion section. There, there was little Alphonse Elric, still on the skinny side of the spectrum, who looked even thinner when confronted to his immediate neighbour, Alex Armstrong. They shared the percussions, the bulky man being more focused on drums and the younger Elric on literally everything metallic.

"And so, everybody went mad looking for their scores!" Alex was laughing soundly, the boom of his potent voice reverberating on the walls. He was obviously briefing his young companion, who was looking up to him with a kind, however a bit awkward, smile, about the last shenanigans.

"Oh, that must have caused some real mess", agreed Al, "I wonder who would do something like that".

"Indeed, my young friend, a real mess nonetheless. Speaking of which, are your scores alright?" How could someone so imposing manage to sound so concerned about some papers was beyond Roy's comprehension.

"Yes, they are", answered Al. "I guess Brother and I went away before someone could swap ours".

The percussionists' conversation went on, but Roy decided to stop listening and got up, crossing the pit until he stood in front of his least favourite cellist. Oh, he needed some release from all the stress he had been piling up, and he would get it _right now_.

"Tell me something, Fullmetal" he addressed the blond kid.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Don't – Call – Me – Fullmetal" the youngster articulated without detaching his gaze from the strings of his bow, admittedly a bit mangy. He was tearing down the ruined strings, but the action was thinning the bow even more.

"Ow, come on", Roy whined melodramatically, bringing a hand to clutch his chest. "I only wish for you to remember your origins. I would _never_ dare to call you names". He made sure to add some moaning just to make his speech even more irritating to his friend's ears. The smirk on his face, though, ruined his studiously constructed, concerned look a little, but he couldn't help it. It was hard enough to restrain from laughing as it was.

Ed huffed from his nostril the breath he had obviously been holding to keep control of himself. "Whatever. What do you want, _Flame_?" he conceded, finally looking at Roy right in his eyes with those wolfish, yellow orbs of his.

Roy deliberatively decided to ignore the infamous nickname by which he had been teased since that day when he had stroked his violin so hard to generate sparks, accidentally setting the stage on fire. They could continue this game until nightfall, but Roy had been saving up this one for a while, now, and he had decided to finally use it since Ed's arrival today. He pointed at the blond's instrument and declaimed, loud enough to be heard by most of the crew: "Did you actually indented on buying a cello or were you looking for a contrabass your size? Because if that's the case, they have fooled you". He let his statement sink in, admiring how Ed's face contorted with rage while confusion gave in to realisation.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SHORTER THAN A DEMISEMIQUAVER, YOU BASTARD! HOW DARE YOU!?" he raised his bow, aiming for Roy's head. Roy was ready and ducked on time, saving his laboriously styled hair from the kid's wrath. He went back to his seat, leaving it to the others to calm down the feral child.

With his mood lightened up, and chuckling to himself, he slumped on his chair, next to his best friend.

"You should tone down the teasing a bit, Roy-boy, or you'll be murdered in your bed sooner, rather than later".

"Oh, Hughes", patronised Roy "what you don't see is that he has to manage to climb on the bed, first".

The bespectacled violinist laughed soundly. "Don't let him hear you, or he'll deaf us all with his screeches!"

After their cackle ended, there was a moment of comfortable silence when they regained their breath. Then, Maes reached in in his front pocket and Roy's eyes went wide, while his body paralysed with fear and cold shivers run down his back.

"By the way, did I show you the last pictures of Elysia?"

Survival instinct kicked in and Roy diverted his attention to his instrument, rehearsing a piece of the allegro by himself, taking great care in hitting his neighbour with every movement. Hughes still had the photos in front of him, but the melody was effective in blocking the most part of the blabbering about the _most beautiful, smart, sweetest cupcake of a daughter a father could ever ask for_. Roy kept on increasing the volume and the rhythm until it almost reached a prestissimo con fuoco.

A hand from behind shook his right shoulder.

"Stop that", said Riza authoritatively, "you are making sparks, _again_ ".

Roy stopped at once and, truth be told, there was the faint smell of something burnt coming from his violin. He turned to face his fellow violinist and offered her an apologetic expression. However, she didn't let go of her serious expression and reprimanded him with a sharp look. They really didn't need words to understand each other. Her arms crossed under her breasts, she pointed her chin at the upcoming conductor.

"Bradley is back, we are going to restart soon". He nodded in agreement. "So stop acting like children, you both".

Roy and Maes looked at each other furtively, twin grins on their mouths, and simultaneously raised their bows as Bradley's wand shot up.

 **Here I present you my first attempt at a multichapter fic.**

 **I designed this AU after going to a concert where I swear there was a violinist who looked exactly like Hughes. I tried to check if it had been already done before and couldn't find anything, but if you know of similar stories please let me know, as I'd like to make sure not to produce the exact same thing.**

 **This will probably be 10 chapters or so long. The plot is already set and I've got the majority of the chapters already planned in detail, so I hope to be able to update every other week, but one can never know. University is being hectic.**

 **I hope that you enjoyed, if so (or even if not) let me know what you think.**

 **Thanks for reading thus far!**


	2. Long night

He scoffed in annoyance. "I hate coming here. It's dumb".

"You say that every time, it's not like it's going to change anytime soon". Al, being the little brother, always managed to get on Ed's nerves. "This room is more convenient for the orchestra, soundproof and all. And since it is part of the music school, they don't have to spend extra money for the heating of the entire theatre".

Ed rolled his eyes. "Stop making se-ense" he whined, dragging his words. Al's reaction was limited to a slight shake of his head, clearly calling the conversation to an end. They kept walking down the hall in a comfortable silence, their steps just fast enough so that they weren't running, but still they were going to catch the bus on time. Damn rehearsal room too far away from home to be reached with a short walk. His prosthetic leg was already beginning to send warning shots up his thigh. Then, amidst the hallway, he noticed a girl standing in front of the notice board.

"Hey Al," he whispered, elbowing his brother. "It's your crush". Alphonse turned red in an instant and glared wickedly at Ed, but any retort he might have was cute down when the girl, hearing their approach, looked away from the board and to them. "Alphonse, hi!" she waved at them enthusiastically.

"H-hi, Mei" Al managed to blurt out. At that, Ed just shook his head in annoyance with his brother's impromptu shyness.

"Hey, Mei" Ed acknowledged her at last, all the while stomping on Al's foot in hope to awake him from his - quite unnerving, if he had a say to that - marveling stare.

"Ouc- oh," Al murmured, his gaze now back to resembling something close to normal. Mei, who had followed the little exchange with kind of a worried expression, was smiling kindly and comprehensively at them. "Is something wrong, Alphonse?" she asked.

"Oh, not at all" Al rebuked instantly, scratching the back of his head. "How are your studies proceeding?"

"They are going quite well, thanks" she answered. "In fact, I was right here to hang an ad- you don't happen to know any good pianist, do you? I am looking for someone to accompany me on the next competition".

"Don't you usually work with that third rate of a pianist, what's his name…?" Ed stepped in the conversation.

"He's called Yoki, and he's not third rate!" Mei exclaimed, clearly vexed. "For your information, he's so good that everybody here has already asked him to be their accompanist and he's got his hands full!" They glared at each other.

"Brother! Don't be rude!" Al intervened. After hushing his brother, he turned to speak to Mei. "I apologize for his behavior". Mei acknowledged the excuses with a short nod, after which Al continued on. "I'm sorry, Mei, but the only good pianists we know are far away from here, and I'm afraid they wouldn't make up here just for accompany a singer," he said, apologetically. "Albeit a good one like you" he added. At that compliment, Mei blushed visibly. "Oh, thanks, Alphonse, but don't worry" she blurted. "I'll find someone".

"Yeah, I wish you to".

"Thank you".

"We really need to go, Al". Ed seized Al's left arm and started dragging his brother toward the exit.

"Yeah… well, see you around, Mei. Have a nice evening"

"You too, Alphonse" Mei waved.

"Bye, Mei" Ed shouted, halfway through the door, without turning back.

"…bye, Edward". Ed noticed that to bid him goodbye, Mei had used a way colder tone than with Al.

They were almost out, when Ed felt a sudden thug: Al, whose arm he was still attached to, had stopped without a warning. "Hey, Mei!" he shouted, still facing the door. Ed sent a confused look to his younger brother. "When is your competition?" he continued, in a lower tone and actually turning to face the girl. She had finished pinning her ad and was headed towards the inner part of the building, but at Al's shout she had turned back.

"It's… next month, on the twentieth" she answered, warily. "Why do you want to know?"

"Well…" Ed was still observing his brother and visibly noticed the sudden reddening of his cheeks. Then, Al closed his eyes and took a long breath, as if to steady himself, his hands tight into fists. "Because I'd like to come and cheer for you" he finally admitted, opening his eyes and smiling. Unbelieving of his ears, Ed blinked a couple of times.

"Oh". Oh, right. Mei was there, too. Ed shook his head to regain control of his actions after the shock. Al was breathing heavily as if he had just run a marathon. Mei, on the other hand, had assumed a distinctive red hue to match Al's. "Thank you, Alphonse. I'd love if you do" she whispered, somehow recollecting herself enough to answer.

"You… you'd love to?" Clearly, Al couldn't believe it.

"Of course" Mei assured, now speaking more steadily.

"Oh, right". Al scratched the back of his neck. Mei continued to look at the pair of them, not indulging in conversation anymore, but still not making a move to go away, either. She seemed rather shocked, Ed noticed.

He glanced at his watch, checking the time. Damn, they were going to be late. "Well, as much as I'd love to keep chatting," he started, breaking the heavy silence that had spread in the hallway, "we really need to go. Bye, Mei".

Al and the girl waved each other goodbye, but Ed wasn't taking anymore shit, tonight. He started dragging Al again, even more so when he came into view of the bus stop and saw that the coach was already there, people almost all already on it. "HEY, WAIT FOR US!" He shouted to the driver, all the while waving his arm around in hope to catch his attention.

.

.

.

They barely made it on the bus on time, the driver scoffing at the two of them while they regained their breath and looked for a seat. They found one close to the back and sat down, panting.

"This" Edward wheezed "is all your fault".

"You are insensible, Brother". Al was beaming with happiness. "I was finally able to speak to Mei properly, and I even got a date out of it!" He grabbed Ed by his shoulders and shook him "Isn't it _wonderful_?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever" Ed brushed his brother's hands off. "That hardly classifies as date at all, you know".

"Oh, and you have so much date experience you can decide what's a date and what's not" Al sneered.

"I'll have you _know_ , little brother, that I am what you call an expert womanizer". At that statement, Al chuckled loudly. Ed elbowed him, offended, only to have him start coughing amidst laughter. "Oh, Brother," Al mewled in a high pitched voice, still strained by the previous laughter. He wiped the tears the hilarity had caused. "Brother, if you are such an expert, why is that that you can't figure out Winry?"

Ed actually gasped at that comment, and could already feel his whole face heat up. "That- that has nothing to do with this!" he stuttered. "Winry and I are just childhood friends!"

"Keep telling yourself that, Brother".

"Shut up". Ed fixed his gaze on the front seat, and his next words were spoken in a more somber tone. "You're on your own, tonight".

Al diverted his gaze to the front seat, too. "Devil's Nest?"

"Yeah".

.

.

.

When the bus finally - _finally_ , since the driver had kept a constant speed of 30 miles per hour. Ed was on the verge of hijacking the vehicle on multiple occasion during the ride - reached their stop, the brothers got off and crossed the road to their flat. Luckily, their current residence was near and they didn't have to walk long, or Ed would have really considered trowing his instrument in a ditch, just to soothe his sore shoulders. Once in front of their front door, Al fumbled with the keys and opened. Just after the threshold, Ed put down his cello and went straight to the kitchen sink. He let the water run for a bit, then placed his mouth right under the faucet and drank greedily.

"Brother, you could have used a glass, you know". Even without looking at him, Ed knew that his brother was shaking his head in disapproval.

"What was not used, does not need to be washed" he remarked, after gulping down another mouthful of water. The taste wasn't exactly appalling, what with the faint aftertaste of chlorine and iron. He probably should tell the landlord to have a look at their pipes. But not now, he was in a bit of a rush. He passed Al, who was organizing his own scores on the couch, to go in his bedroom. There, he picked up his bass guitar case and stomped back in the entrance.

"See you later, Brother" came Al's voice.

Ed stopped for a moment on the threshold and gave his little brother a warning glance. "Don't stay up waiting, I'll be late. Go to bed".

"Yes, Mom" Al mocked, rolling his eyes.

"And eat something".

"You too, Brother".

Ed closed the door and rushed down the stairs at the maximum speed his leg allowed. Once outside, he headed straight to the bus stop.

.

.

.

When Ed finally managed to reach the Devil's Nest, loud music was already pouring from the closed doors, as if a rhythmic beat was pounding from every fissure. He knew he would never have arrived on time, since damn Bradley had announced, five minutes before the scheduled end of rehearsal, an additional hour was necessary. Still, being confronted with the sheer reality of it made him even madder with their conductor. They weren't even payed per-hour, dammit.

Ed gripped the handle, maybe with more force than what was necessary, but didn't push the door open. He fixed his gaze on his knuckles, turned white with the exertion, and took a deep breath to steady himself. No need to be this worked up on a delay. It's not like he was the kind of guy who's always on time. Quite the contrary, instead.

A glance on the poster hanged close to the front door made him chuckle. _The Chimeras_ , it advertised in bold letters. A rough sketch of the members of the band took all the remaining space. Ed briefly wondered what was Ling's opinion on how the artist had given him even squintier eyes than those he already had. Without further ado, he finally crossed the threshold and stepped in the bar.

Inside, the noise was even louder, what with the music no more filtrated by the walls and the uproar of the customers. Ed blinked, incredulous at the sight of the mob, nodding with the beats and singing along. It seemed like they were in for a good night.

"You're late!" A voice clearly distanced itself from the chatter and Ed turned to his left to notice an old, bald man coming towards him. _Damn,_ he thought, _he's already upon me._ Nevertheless, he put on his most charming smile - screw Al, his smiles _were_ charming, and totally did _not_ resemble the agonizing grimace of a dying person - and draped his arm on the older man's shoulders. "Bido! How comes?"

Bido's only answer was to shove him away. "You damn brat, always thinking you're too good to lower yourself to the social rules of punctuality? Oh, no, wait… to lower yourself you'd had to be tall, first".

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT THAT IF HE BOWS HIS HEIGHT IS ACTUALLY INCREASED?!" Some people diverted their attention from the stage were the band had kept playing, interested in the ruckus.

"Shh, shut up!" Bido's hand shot to Ed's mouth, effectively blocking his rant. "Will you ever learn to contain yourself?!" Bido hissed. "Tonight we have some special guests". He pointed with his chin at the front table, where two men were seated. Ed observed them with expert eyes. Their drinks were full and there was no sign that they had just been refilled. Their suits, quite more elegant than the Devil's Nest's typical customer's clothing choices, were still fresh and clean: no alcohol stains and no loose buttons on their shirts, and their ties were as straight as they come. Definitely, these people were not wasted. They observed attentively the musicians, and one of them had something in his hands. Ed squinted. A notepad? Yeah, he was writing something on it. Could it be…?

He turned back to face Bido, who apparently read his questionary gaze, because he answered before Ed was even able to formulate his question. "Yes, it's them".

Ed grinned in excitation. Finally the record producers had took interest in their band!

"Now go on the stage" Bido hurried him along with a slight push on his back. "And try not to be too obnoxious if they want to talk to you".

"Don't worry, old man" Ed waved off, "I'll be the epitome of courtesy".

"Don't I wish it was possible".

.

.

.

Around four in the morning, the audience had finally thinned enough for the Chimeras to call it a day and stop playing. The producers had left around midnight and now only those too drunk to leave on their own had remained. Ed dropped himself on a stool and bent over his crossed arms, his forehead touching the countertop. He was so tired he wasn't even hungry anymore, although two hours ago he would have killed for something more than few chips snatched between a song and another.

"Hey, short stuff".

"-m'not short" Ed mumbled, already drifting to sleep. A hand grabbed him by the elbow and forced him to stand. Ed registered a mop of dark hair and squinty eyes and devoted all of his - admittedly scarce - remaining energy to send Ling a vicious glare.

"Here". Ling handed him a roll of banknotes. "I got your pay for the day". Ed pocketed it. "Thanks, mate".

"Oh, it was nothing" he answered with a snicker. "I thought you might want it before Bido disappears, ' _forgetting'_ " he mimicked the quote sign with his fingers "to pay you".

"Did you managed to talk with the producers?"

"Oh, yeah!" Ling visibly beamed. "They said they may be interested. And they appreciated my songs!"

"That's great!"

"Yeah, and-" Ling cut himself short, head whipping in the direction of the farthest tables. "Sorry, pal, we'll have to talk another time". He patted Ed on his shoulder and headed back to whatever he had seen. Intrigued, Ed turned to the source of his friend's distraction, right forearm still on the countertop. At the gloomiest table of the bar - the one on the back, far from both the stage on the left, the windows on the right and the counter on the front - a girl was seated. She wore her black hair in a bun and was looking directly at them - well, she was staring, actually.

 _That girl again_ , Ed thought.

He continued staring apathetically, his lids halfway down. Ling beelined all the tables and reached hers. She smiled at him and he took the nearest chair and sat down with her. They started talking, Ed could see their mouths moving, but couldn't make out what they were saying amidst the residual chatter.

She probably had some kind of affair with Ling, Ed reasoned, since she came almost every time they played. Once he spotted her, Ling would always take his leave and get to her seat. They would talk for a while, and then Ling would offer her something to drink, if the last call hadn't already be made. Ed had tried to have Ling talk about her, but he always refused to divulge any kind of information - not even her name. And Greed wasn't helpful at all. The guitarist was Ling's flatmate, and his best friend, he _had_ to know something. But Greed, too, wouldn't give in, probably out of a stupid deal about Ling not blabbing Greed's real name to anyone.

Ed was again averted from his thoughts when another hand posed on his shoulder. Greed himself stood beside him, toothy grin dirty with residual food. "Ready to go?"

Ed simply nodded. He picked up his bass case and rested the strap on his left shoulder. Greed handed him a helmet and they headed towards the back exit. On their way, Ed looked around for the other components of the band, but it seemed they had already left. _It must be really late._

Greed's bike was parked near the dumpsters, and its owner looked it around for scratches. Ed put on his helmet while Greed mounted on and started the engine. Then, he mounted behind the man and they left, the roar of the engine filling their ears.

Once Greed dropped Ed in front of his flat, Ed was almost asleep and it took all of his will to not just lay on the unkept patch of grass that lined the front steps. He actually thanked Greed for the ride, even if only with a slight wave, and climbed the forty-two steps that separated him from his place, and most of all, his bed. After entering his apartment, he crossed the living room in a blur, his vision almost fading at the sides. He crashed on his bed without even getting out of his clothes, his shoes still on. He was already asleep by the time hie head touched the pillow.

 **I am terribly sorry this took so long. I said I'd upload in a couple weeks and it's been more than two months. My excuse is that I have been really busy, I had many exams and I finally graduated.**

 **Id, does this mean that you'll have more time, now? Of course not, I'm already taking my master degree and exams are coming up again. That being said, I'm never promising a timed update anymore, but I have no intention of abandoning this story. Also, remember that reviews keep me going, so if you feel like it, just drop by and tell me what you think.**

 **I had kind of a struggle with this one. It was my first time writing from Ed's pov and I am not completely sure I got him right. What do you guys think?**

 **Thanks for reading thus far and see you soon!**


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